


5 Times Ken Made Daisuke Eat His Vegetables + 1 Time Daisuke Realized It Wasn't So Bad

by Anatui



Category: Digimon - All Media Types, Digimon Adventure Zero Two | Digimon Adventure 02
Genre: 5+1 Things, Adulthood, Blow Jobs, Chef Motomiya Daisuke | Davis Motomiya, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Eating Healthy, Established Relationship, Family Dynamics, Fluff and Humor, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Implied/Referenced Sex, Japanese Culture, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Movie Night, New Year's Day, Osechi Ryori, Sharing Clothes, Snarky Ichijouji Ken
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:14:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22998259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anatui/pseuds/Anatui
Summary: Daisuke's eyes narrowed at the instructions on his phone. "Uh, Ken…?"His boyfriend sent him a serene smile from the other side of the kitchen counter. "Hmm?""I think there's some kind of mistake."Ken was the picture of surprised innocence—but it was the kind of surprised innocence that made Daisuke absolutely positive he knew exactly what the problem was. "Oh?""Where's the rest of the meal?" Daisuke shifted his glare to said picture of surprised innocence. "This is just vegetables."ORKen tries to get Daisuke to eat healthier. Daisuke does not approve.
Relationships: Ichijouji Ken/Motomiya Daisuke | Davis Motomiya
Comments: 1
Kudos: 29
Collections: Ana's 2020 Writing Challenge, Daiken Discord Server





	5 Times Ken Made Daisuke Eat His Vegetables + 1 Time Daisuke Realized It Wasn't So Bad

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jogresspartners](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jogresspartners/gifts).



> Well, I wasn't planning to write this fic, but @jogresspartners gave me this beautiful idea, and I couldn't resist...
> 
> This turned out more serious than I expected. *shrug*
> 
> Per usual, I'll go through and look for typos in the next couple days.

**1**

Daisuke's eyes narrowed at the instructions on his phone. "Uh, Ken…?"

His boyfriend sent him a serene smile from the other side of the kitchen counter. "Hmm?"

"I think there's some kind of mistake."

Ken was the picture of surprised innocence—but it was the kind of surprised innocence that made Daisuke absolutely positive he knew exactly what the problem was. "Oh?"

"Where's the rest of the meal?" Daisuke shifted his glare to said picture of surprised innocence. "This is just vegetables."

The smile that spread across his boyfriend's face was soft and sweet…verging on sadistic. "Don't forget the sauce. That's really what brings the dish together, don't you think?"

For a moment, Daisuke stared at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

Ken smiled brightly, then stuck his nose back inside his book, but his position stayed alert. He was paying attention even if he didn't want Daisuke to realize that—but Daisuke had long ago become a master at reading Ken's body language.

He studied the recipe again.

For the two of them, it would make a full meal, sure, but it was nothing but steamed vegetables in a miso sesame sauce—and if that didn't sound disappointing, Daisuke didn't know what did. Without noodles or rice or some kind of meat…what was the point?

Still, it was what Ken wanted, so he took a deep breath, swallowed his pride as a ramen chef, and pulled out the groceries Ken had bought at the market that morning.

The recipe was quite simple: Cut up the veggies, steam them in dashi, and serve with the sauce, which wouldn't take long to make either. It wouldn't be any more difficult than making ramen or buns or much of anything.

He cast Ken a glare as he spread the vegetables over the counter and began to prep the veggies. "Is there a reason you think we should have a meal composed entirely of vegetables?" He scowled down at the broccoli as he cut it into florets. "What's wrong with—?"

Ken snorted. "You eat enough ramen during your lunch break, Daisuke. You don't need to eat it at home too."

"That doesn't mean we need to limit our meals to steamed vegetables."

With a sigh, Ken slipped his bookmark inside the pages to mark his place and set the book on the counter, his hands clasped on top. "I thought you liked steamed vegetables."

Daisuke paused, irritation rising. "I also like noodles, Ken. And meat. Lots of meat."

His boyfriend raised an eyebrow, and his gaze darted downward—

A hot, red blush spread over Daisuke's cheeks. "I didn't mean—not like _that_ ," he spluttered, averting his eyes. "You can't just—"

"Well," Ken said, interrupting him with his cool, calculating voice, "if you want meat—lots of meat—tonight, you'll cook the food and stop complaining about it."

Daisuke looked like he wanted to say something, but he struggled, brow furrowed, cheeks flushed, and quickly returned his attention to the food.

Ken allowed a smug smile to spread across his lips as he picked his book up again.

"That's not very nice, you know," Daisuke said under his breath.

Because it would never be as simple as denying him sex—no, Ken would go all out.

He'd prance around in his cute little underwear and stretch and twist his body in ways that were far too enticing for his own damn good. He'd sigh and moan and make all sorts of noises that were positively sinful, and he'd make sure to touch Daisuke in the exact ways that would make him desperate for more…and then he'd roll over and go to sleep, leaving Daisuke to take care of himself.

"Careful, Daisuke," Ken said, glancing over the top of his book. "If I didn't know better, I'd think that sounds remarkably like complaining."

He scoffed. "No, absolutely not."

Not that sarcasm would win him points either.

But Ken didn't say anything else before returning to his reading.

**2**

Movie nights at Daisuke and Ken's apartment were always an exciting affair. With their opposite taste in movies, they switched between watching action flicks and westerns and comedies that made Ken cringe to biopics and true crime and mysteries that made Daisuke scratch his head.

But they took turns, and they always put in the effort to become invested in the film, even if it wasn't something they'd choose to watch.

Of course, it was difficult to enjoy their movie nights if Ken had completely changed the evening's snack menu. Instead of stuffed dumplings, pretzel sticks, and steamed cakes, Ken had insisted they try something different with their weekly evening of relaxation and cuddles.

Daisuke had no interest in cuddling when he saw the snacks he was supposed to put together for them.

Sure, edamame were always good and lotus root chips were tolerable since they were fried, but Ken also wanted broccolini gomaae and pickled daikon, the last of which he'd had to make two days in advance.

Daisuke was pretty sure those last two didn't actually count as snacks.

He sighed as he used the spatula to pour the sesame sauce over the steamed broccolini and cast a glance toward the living room, where Ken was choosing a film to watch. Of course, the night Ken decided to completely change their menu would also be Ken's turn to pick the movie.

Not that it mattered.

Ken wanted to try something different, and as much as Daisuke really wanted to bury himself in boxes of Pretz and Pocky and stuff himself with rice dumplings and crepes and sweet rolls, he couldn't deny Ken.

It barely took him a couple more minutes to bring a tray of the so-called snacks to the short table in the living room. He practically threw it onto the tabletop and crossed his arms. "There you go."

Okay, he couldn't _deny_ Ken what he wanted, but he could certainly be tetchy about it.

Ken, though, looked up at him with that sage smile, showing once again that he was not surprised in the least by Daisuke's petulant behavior. In fact, he'd probably expected it.

Which caused a bout of irritation to well in Daisuke's stomach.

He dropped onto the couch with his boyfriend and grabbed a lotus root chip. "I hate you."

Ken released a melodic laugh, then leaned close to press a kiss to his cheek. "I love you too, Daisuke." He hovered close, refusing to pull away even as Daisuke stiffened. "Thank you for taking the time to make all of this. It looks delicious."

Heat rose to his cheeks, and he tried to bury himself in the couch. "Yeah, sure."

But Ken remained glued to his side, a pleased sigh escaping his lovely mouth as he dropped his head on Daisuke's shoulder. "You're so sweet to take care of me." Ken ran a hand over his thigh, up, up, up toward his hip. "Hard work should be rewarded, don't you think?"

Daisuke bit his lip, trying not to look at his boyfriend. "You're a manipulative bastard, Ichijouji."

"Hmm…" He pulled away to grab the remote and start the film he chose—some crime drama based on a book Ken read a few months back. "It works, though, doesn't it?"

Daisuke glowered at the screen.

Of course it worked. Daisuke would give Ken anything he wanted if he could. Even if that meant sacrificing one of his favorite things in the world…greasy, delicious comfort food.

Once he'd put away the remote and grabbed the bowl of edamame, Ken settled against his side again, burrowing in until Daisuke shifted and wrapped his arm around him. He sighed and melted into Daisuke's embrace, head on his shoulder, free hand resting on his thigh.

And if Ken's slender fingers rubbed idle circles too close to his inner thigh while he munched on his stupid vegetables, well, Daisuke really couldn't be blamed for enjoying the movie night all the same.

**3**

Breathless, Daisuke stumbled to the floor in a heap of sheets and blankets and sweat. His eyes fluttered shut, and he rubbed a line of sweat from his forehead, desperate to settle his breathing, to settle his whole body.

Ken shifted toward the edge of the bed and peered down at him curiously. "Dai? What're you doing down there?"

He grunted, unable to answer properly.

His boyfriend flashed a smile, then sat up and made an attempt to flatten his dark hair, stringy and mussed on one side. "You weren't supposed to leave me alone up here."

Daisuke shot him a glare. "Wasn't on purpose," he managed, then struggled to push up on his elbows. "Lost my grip."

With a nod, Ken slid from the mattress, hair still a mess, and stretched, showing off every inch of taut muscles and his lovely cock, still at half-mast. "You going to stay down there all day?"

He'd lost his voice, though.

Ken raised an eyebrow. "Daisuke…" He moved closer, leaning down for a better view, a frown constricting his lips into a tight purse. "Do something, dammit."

So Daisuke reached for him.

A sharp gasp echoed through the room when Daisuke sucked him into his mouth, and the arousal came back almost immediately. Fingernails scraped through his cinnamon hair, and Ken moaned, knees weakening till he clung to the edge of the bed.

It didn't take long for him to come, a whimper falling from his lips, and he collapsed into Daisuke's arms, unable to move for a long time.

Not that Daisuke was complaining as he pressed kisses along his sweat-soaked brow and traced his rough fingers over the smooth skin of Ken's pale hip. "Hmm, beautiful…"

Ken released a breathless laugh and shifted to close the distance between their mouths.

"Mmm," he murmured a moment later, pulling back to meet Daisuke's warm eyes. "It's past dinnertime. You distracted me."

He chuckled, burying his face in the stringy black hair. "I'm not apologizing."

"But I'm hungry," Ken protested and donned a pout for effect.

Daisuke kissed his temple. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. What do you want?"

"Can you make coleslaw?"

He pulled back, frowning. "Don't you want something that won't take as long. We have plenty of snacks and stuff already ready to eat."

Ken pouted again. "Yeah, but—"

Daisuke snorted. "But you want coleslaw." He shifted, nudging Ken out of the way, and struggled to stand, his hand on the mattress for support. "You have way too much faith in my ability to cook right now."

But a bout of laughter followed him as he pulled on a pair of boxers and stumbled out the bedroom door. "Making coleslaw doesn't require cooking," Ken called after him.

His boyfriend didn't see the irritation on his face as Daisuke sifted through the vegetables in the fridge and pantry and pulled out some green onions, red cabbage, carrots, edamame, peppers, and cilantro, then grabbed a chopping knife.

Dammit, his hand was cramping, and his thighs were tired, and making any food—even if it didn't technically require cooking—right after sex was fucking stupid.

By the time Ken came downstairs, wearing nothing more than one of Daisuke's bright red T-shirts that barely covered his bare ass, the coleslaw was chilling in a sealed bowl in the fridge, allowing the flavors to mix and mingle.

Much like they'd just mixed and mingled upstairs.

Ken leaned against the kitchen doorway with a soft smile on his red lips. A hickey, pink and brown and fresh, stood out at the base of his neck, and his normally luxurious hair was still one giant mass. He looked like sex itself.

It probably helped that the T-shirt didn't cover much past his hip bones. Really, why did he bother to put it on?

Twenty minutes later, when the coleslaw was ready to eat, they cuddled together on the couch, the large bowl on Ken's stomach, chopsticks between his fingers so he could feed himself—and Daisuke.

"You need to eat your vegetables," Ken said, pushing a bite into his mouth. "They're good for you."

Daisuke didn't complain purely because he was still too tired.

Having his half-naked boyfriend flush against his side probably helped too.

**4**

Daisuke's family had never been particularly traditional—or close, for that matter—and Ken's family had all but adopted him when they were teens. He'd always joined them for New Year's, and his role had only increased after they'd started dating.

Every year, he and Ken went to the Ichijoujis' apartment and spent days cooking and preparing for the New Year. Once Daisuke had started his apprenticeship, his kitchen skills had improved dramatically, and Mrs. Ichijouji loved having him help her as they put together their Osechi Ryori.

This year, though, Ken had more specific requests as Daisuke put together a shopping list before they went to Tamachi.

And when he went to the market, he spent far longer at the stalls heavily featuring vegetables and fruit than anywhere else. Turnips and daikon and carrots and lotus root and soybeans and tart yuzus and whatever else Ken put on the list.

Mrs. Ichijouji always loved it when he made fresh mochi, but his traditional gooey rice cakes would not be a part of the festivities this year—aside from the two large cakes for Kagami Biraki.

Well, if it bothered Mrs. Ichijouji that much, she only had her own son to blame.

A son who looked particularly pleased with himself as they carted their groceries toward his childhood apartment.

Daisuke rolled his eyes but followed close behind, then up the elevator and toward the apartment door at the end of the hallway.

Ken knocked before opening the door, unlocking it with a key he still had for convenience's sake, and they slipped inside and exchanged their shoes for slippers. Daisuke dropped the bags of groceries on the kitchen island and started organizing them while Ken did a quick search for his mother.

She came out of one of the back rooms, a bright smile on her face at the sight of them, and pulled each of them into a hug, ignoring the fact that Daisuke was in the middle of unloading one of the sacks.

"I was hoping you'd get here soon," she said, settling against the counter, streaks of white in her curly brown hair. "I haven't had time to start on much, but now that you're here, I know we'll have everything ready for New Year's Day."

Ken settled beside her and wrapped an arm around her small shoulders—Daisuke could never get over how small she looked compared to her ~~unfairly~~ tall son. "Of course we will, Mama."

But her brow furrowed as she watched Daisuke pull item after item out of the bag.

Daisuke caught her eye and smiled before she could voice a question. "Ask your son," he said, voice lilting with amusement. "He decided we're going to eat healthier."

Ken scowled at him. "There's always a wide variety of foods in our Osechi Ryori, Daisuke. It's hardly unreasonable to want to skew that in the direction of healthy foods instead of sweets." He turned away sharply, head held high.

Laughter bubbled from Daisuke's mouth as he folded the now empty bag. "Don't be a spoilsport. You know I'm teasing."

But Ken didn't laugh.

He squeezed his mother one last time before marching toward the bathroom.

Daisuke gripped the counter and sighed.

What the hell was Ken's deal?

"Everything all right, Daisuke-kun?" Mrs. Ichijouji asked in a quiet, concerned voice. "Are you and Ken-can all right?"

He bit his lip. The last thing he needed to do was spill his frustrations to Ken's mother, as worried and supportive as she was. "Yeah, we're all right." He swallowed down anything else as she dropped the bag on the counter. "I'll just check on him."

When Ken came out of the toilet a minute later, Daisuke was waiting for him in the hallway, arms crossed over his chest, mouth tight.

Ken froze in the doorway. "What?"

"What's got your underwear all bunched up?"

His eyes narrowed. "My underwear's fine, thanks," he snapped.

Daisuke raised an eyebrow. "Maybe I should check…"

"Don't try to flirt with me right now. I don't want to hear it."

He sighed. "Well, it's not like you're talking to me, is it? What the hell am I supposed to do?"

Ken stayed uncomfortably still, staring at him with dark eyes. "You _could_ try not being an asshole."

"Are we really doing this here?" Daisuke cast a glance back toward the main living and kitchen area before meeting Ken's eyes with a meaningful look. "I don't know what's gotten into you, but getting into a fight while prepping for New Year's isn't a smart idea."

He closed his eyes and released a shaky breath, but he nodded.

Daisuke bit his lip, but swallowed down any hesitation and offered Ken his hand. "Now come on," he said, voice soft, tender. "I need to pickle some turnips and make them look like chrysanthemums, and I want you to help me."

Ken met his eyes, worrying his bottom lip, but bridged the distance and placed his soft hand in Daisuke's. "I'm not sure how much help I'll be."

He threaded their fingers together and smiled. "Well, I'm not letting you anywhere near the knife, but I'm pretty sure you can handle putting together the marinade."

Ken raised an eyebrow.

"I have faith in you." And he squeezed his hand before leading the way back toward the kitchen.

**5**

Daisuke waited for Ken to bring it up after they got home from New Year's at his parents', but he didn't.

He didn't bring it up in the next week.

And he didn't bring it up before he went back to work after his holiday break.

For his part, Daisuke could only watch as Ken pulled back and retreated into himself. He smiled less, laughed rarely, and he toned down his expectations for Daisuke's cooking in the evenings.

When Ken specifically requested spring rolls to go with their miso soup one weekend, Daisuke was determined to get to the bottom of things.

"Hmm," he said as he looked through their fridge and pantry. "What should we put in the spring rolls?" His loud voice carried to the living room, where Ken was watching the news. "We've got some baby corn and some bok choy. I could add some mushrooms too—we've got a few shiitakes that need cooked."

"Sounds good," Ken called in response, not even bothering to look over.

"Oh, we've got some pork left over. I could add that…?"

Ken opened his mouth, but hesitated.

"Or there's the end of this teriyaki steak." Daisuke leaned down and pulled out a sealed glass dish. "That would go really well."

He paused, scrutinizing the food.

"You know, if you want, I could run out and buy some shrimp or prawns or something. That would be delicious."

Finally, Ken released an irritated groan. "Stop it."

Daisuke let the fridge slide shut and twisted around toward the living room. "Stop what?"

Ken shot him a glare. "I know what you're doing. Stop it."

"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about, Ken. Please enlighten me."

"Stop trying to get under my skin."

He pouted. "But your skin is one of my favorite things."

Ken shifted to face him better, arms crossed over his chest, eyes narrow. "You're trying to rile me up."

"Well…" Daisuke shrugged his shoulders with a dramatic flourish, and when he continued, his voice had lost its teasing edge. "We were supposed to talk about this after New Year's, but it's been weeks and you're hiding instead of talking to me. We've been together for years, Ken— _years_ —and you should be able to talk to me by now. I shouldn't have to drag it out of you."

"You're right." With a sigh, Ken's eyes fell shut. "It has been years, but you haven't changed."

That caught him off guard.

"What?"

Ken rose from the couch and approached, keeping the kitchen counter between them. "We're over thirty now, and you're still just as reckless and hotheaded as always."

Daisuke cocked his head. "What does that…?"

"You don't think about the consequences, and really, Daisuke, you cannot keep eating like you're eighteen years old and expect it not to have adverse effects."

He opened his mouth to argue, but…well, Ken _did_ have a point.

"All I ask is that, once a day, you have at least one meal that isn't full of carbs and grease and red meat." Ken tucked a few loose strands behind his ear, suddenly nervous. "I don't see why that's an unreasonable request."

Daisuke cast a look toward his boyfriend and felt himself soften at the concern on his face. "Yeah, okay," he said after a moment. "I guess that makes sense."

Ken scoffed. "You _guess_."

When their eyes met, Daisuke cocked an eyebrow, challenging him to take that comment further.

But Ken simply shook his head, amusement blossoming on his face.

That was all Daisuke needed to push away from the counter and circle around to wrap his boyfriend in his arms. He held Ken tight and pressed kisses to his neck, and Ken crumpled into his arms.

"You're worried about me," he said in a quiet voice, somewhat triumphant.

Ken sighed. "Your body can't keep up with you forever," he said, his voice quieting with the display of emotion, "and I want you to live as long as possible. I want us to be together as long as possible."

With a warm laugh, Daisuke leaned back enough to pull him down into a kiss, and when they broke apart a moment later, he added, "You know, this would've been easier if you'd started there, right?"

Ken released a melodic laugh. "Right."

**+1**

Daisuke bit his lip as he sliced the eggplant.

His eyes darted toward the clock every once in a while, but it didn't make his work pass any faster. It was nearly seven in the evening, Ken was finishing a late shift at work, and Daisuke wanted to surprise him, but he would be home any time.

Thankfully, the eggplant was the last of the vegetables to cut up, and then he could saute them before adding them to the bubbling pot on the back burner.

When Ken finally opened the door ten minutes later, he had all the veggies added to the brew and was mixing in a small portion of curry roux and some salt, and the rice cooker was keeping the rice hot.

With a long sigh, Ken slipped off his shoes and dropped his bag by the door. "What smells so good?" he asked, coming toward the kitchen.

Daisuke offered him a large glass of water without so much as a glance. "Dinner."

Ken chuckled into his drink. "Ah, yes, very descriptive, Daisuke."

He shot a grin over his shoulder, then leaned over the pot to taste the curry. "Mmm, little more salt," he murmured to himself. Then, he added the final slices of tomato, gave them a couple minutes to heat up while he dumped heaping spoonfuls of rice into their bowls, and dished up the curry.

Ken was waiting at the dining table with his water and a soft smile when he emerged with the large steaming bowls.

"Your dinner," he said with a wink and a bow and slid the bowl into Ken's awaiting hands. He'd already set the table, so he settled into the seat next to him and took a large bite despite the steam.

Beside him, Ken blew on the curry before delving in to take small, tentative bites. "This is really good," he said in a hushed voice. "What's in it?"

Daisuke swallowed down his food, then began listing off the ingredients. "Tomato, asparagus, eggplant, mushroom, onion, potato, carrot, bell pepper, kabocha…" The list devolved into spices and condiments, and Ken cut him off before he could count every granule of salt.

He worried his lip. "There's no meat?"

Daisuke released a pleased laugh, and his eyes studied his boyfriend. "It's one hundred percent vegetarian and quite healthy, I'll have you know."

Ken's face flushed, and he sent him a soft smile. "It's delicious, Daisuke."

He had no idea what made Ken so suddenly shy, but the pink blush on his cheeks was enthralling to say the least, and Daisuke scooted his chair out enough he could lean closer to capture his lips in a kiss. Ken dropped his chopsticks on the table to wrap his arms around his neck and opened his mouth, welcoming Daisuke's hot tongue.

They broke apart just enough to breathe, but Ken continued to press wet kisses to his cheek and jaw and neck. "You're sweet," he murmured near his ear, then sucked and nipped at his neck till Daisuke moaned, fingers clutching the table to keep from losing his balance.

He hummed, eyes clamped shut. "Ken…"

"What?" His lips found his earlobe and nibbled the tender skin.

Daisuke took a shaky breath. "Mmm, you know…this can wait a bit. We should eat while it's still hot."

Teeth tugged on his ear, but then Ken broke away, panting, eyes blown wide with arousal. "Alright, fine." But he sounded particularly put out.

"After dinner," Daisuke added, eyes darting toward the stairs to their bedroom. "Then, by all means, show me…"

And the look Ken gave him—dilated eyes, flushed cheeks, lips glistening and swollen from their kisses—said exactly how much Ken intended to demonstrate his appreciation and affection.

Perhaps making the effort to eat healthier had its benefits after all.


End file.
